


Much Reveal. So Surprise. Very Identity.

by E_Salvatore



Series: Eleanor's Advent Calendar Challenge [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alya/Nino (mentioned) - Freeform, F/M, all the reveals your shipper heart could want, potential marichat and ladrien in future chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6607741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Salvatore/pseuds/E_Salvatore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of stand-alone identity reveal one-shots, because the fandom isn't drowning in them or anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Text Me Maybe

“What took you so long?” He asks Ladybug as she finally makes an appearance, diving straight into the battle.

“I’m sorry!” She calls out, fighting her way through mindless soldiers to get closer to him. They work best when they’re back to back, covering each other’s blind spots. “I just heard about the akuma ten minutes ago.”

“I called you,” Chat retrieves one half of his baton just in time to stab at an opponent over Ladybug’s shoulder, knocking the civilian out with a (hopefully) harmless blow to the head. “Seven times!”

Ladybug hurls her yo-yo at something mere inches above his head; he barely flinches, confident in her ability to control her weapon. Gone are the days of her bouncing the red disc off his head for a giggle. “Sorry! I wasn’t transformed!”

It’s easier to breathe now that she’s here, easier to divide and conquer the seemingly endless ranks of the akuma’s army. “See, this is why I keep asking for your number.”

“And here I thought you wanted to ask me out,” Ladybug retorts teasingly.

“Well, that too-” The akuma himself shows up then, presumably forced out of hiding by an impatient Papillon. These days, he barely gives his victims enough time to pursue their personal agendas before commanding them to go after Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Their conversation remains unfinished, as it often does. Chat doesn’t think much of it; he’s been asking Ladybug for her number for the past two years now, so it’s not like this time would have made any difference.

 .

 .

 .

Later that night, Ladybug rattles off a set of numbers and warns him, “For emergencies _only_ , chaton,” before she swings away.

“Wait! Don’t you want my-”

“As if you’re not going to text me as soon as you get back!” She teases, her laugh ringing out in the quiet Parisian night as she disappears from sight. Just for that, he decides not to text her tonight.

First thing tomorrow, then.

 .

 .

 .

Marinette’s phone buzzes with an incoming text as she enters the classroom, and she quickly gets herself settled down and returns Alya’s chipper “good morning!” before fishing her phone out of her bag.

_New message from:_

_Adrien_

Her eyes flit from the screen to the boy sitting in front of her – phone, back of Adrien’s head, phone, back of Adrien’s head, phone- 

Thank goodness Mademoiselle Bustier walks in when she does, and the sharp click of her heels as she enters the suddenly silent classroom snaps Marinette out of it; who knows how long she would’ve kept going otherwise.

Why would Adrien text her when she’s right behind him? Why would Adrien text her, period? They’d settled into a tentative friendship once Alya and Nino started dating, but they haven’t quite worked up to interacting with each other in their own time. As far as she knows, he doesn’t even have her number. Marinette herself had nearly forgotten that she still has his.

Mademoiselle Bustier wishes them all a good morning and asks for two minutes to get her things together, and Marinette uses this short window of time to shoot Alya a reassuring smile – _how_ had she even picked up on Marinette’s odd behavior while engaged in a conversation with Nino? – and pull up the text.

Seconds later, her chair scrapes against the floor as she shoots to her feet and hastily excuses herself for a bathroom break before class has even started.

Chloé makes some sort of snide comment – doesn’t she always? – but this one doesn’t even register in Marinette’s mind. Hell, she could have called Marinette out on being Ladybug and her words still wouldn’t have pierced through the bubble of panic and confusion Marinette is currently trapped in.

She doesn’t make it far, takes the first right turn and finds herself in an empty hallway hidden from view. The message doesn’t make any more sense the second time she reads it.

_Good morning, my lady. I hope you have a punderful day._

In any other case, she would have calmly texted back _I’m sure it will be now that you have my number_ , accompanied by a firm reminder that he’s supposed to text her during emergencies only, and that would have been that.

And when she says ‘any other case’, she means literally any other scenario that doesn’t involve her phone telling her that this message – clearly from Chat – was sent from Adrien’s phone.

She stares at the screen until her vision swims, until the words blur, until she can almost pretend none of this is happening. By the time she registers Tikki’s presence on her shoulder, she’s honestly surprised Alya hasn’t come looking for her yet.

“What are you going to do?” Tikki asks gently, leaning her head against Marinette’s neck in an attempt to comfort the girl.

Storm back into class and pull Adrien out. Send a reply but address him by his real name. Send a reply and pretend everything is normal. Go back to class and pretend none of this happened.

“I have no idea,” Marinette finally admits.

Somewhere in the distance, a heavy door swings shut. “We’ll figure it out together,” Tikki assures Marinette before she flits back into her hiding spot. Marinette pockets her phone just as Alya turns around the corner and comes into view. Excuses are made and eyes are rolled; the next thing she knows, Alya has her by the hand and is dragging her back to class, back to Adrien, back to _Chat._

She apologizes to the teacher, says something about feeling dizzy and hiding out in the bathroom until it passed. The second the teacher turns back to the board, she takes out her phone and taps out a short reply, sends it out without giving herself a chance to hesitate.

_Meet me after class._

It’s strangely gratifying to see the way Adrien jumps when his phone buzzes with a new text, the way his shoulders tense as he processes her message.

_My lady?_

_Put your phone away. The teacher’s about to turn around._

Sure enough, Mademoiselle Bustier sets down her marker and turns her attention back to the class seconds later.

Only to find Adrien craning his neck to get a better look at his classmates, his back turned to the teacher.

“Adrien, is everything alright?”

He flinches. “Yeah! Sorry, yes. Everything’s alright. I just thought I heard- nothing. It was nothing. I’m sorry, Mademoiselle.”

“That’s fine," The teacher assures him after a brief pause, taken aback by his uncharacteristic display of jumpiness. "But try to pay attention, please.”

“Of course,” He promises. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

The thing is, it _does_ happen again. Every single time the teacher has her back to the class, Adrien squirms in his seat and tries his best to turn his head as far left or right as he can without attracting attention.

And _oh_ , Marinette just can’t help herself.

_Sit still. You’re distracting me. And your head’s blocking the board._

His pen clatters to the ground.

“Adrien!” The teacher snaps when she finds his back turned to her once more. If he hears her, Adrien shows no sign of it. He remains perfectly still, twisted around in his seat, eyes wide and mouth gaping like a goldfish’s for several seconds before he finally forms her name.

“Marinette?”

She nods, just once, before dropping her eyes back to her notebook, maintaining a studious appearance while Mademoiselle Bustier reprimands Adrien and issues one last warning for him to settle down and pay attention.

Five minutes later, she asks to be excused. The teacher flashes her a look of concern, which reminds her of her earlier lie just in time to maintain her cover. She assures Mademoiselle Bustier she’ll be alright, says something about needing to splash some cold water on her face and maybe have a moment of peace and quiet on her own.

She takes out her phone the second the door closes behind her and sends out a quick text.

_Wait for two minutes, then follow me._

As luck would have it, an akuma appears in the brief window of time it takes Adrien to excuse himself and meet her in the locker room.

“I should have known it’s _your_ bad luck drawing all of these akumas to our school,” Ladybug teases as they head out together.

“Fair enough,” Chat shrugs as he pulls out his baton. “But think of how many boring classes my bad luck has saved you from!”

Maybe she’s still reeling. Maybe she’s a little off that day because every time Chat looks at her, it’s Adrien’s eyes she sees. Maybe his usual flirting has caught her off-guard, now that they know each other’s identities.

But Ladybug thinks they’re going to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it, folks – my shitty first attempt at a Ladybug fic. I know it’s a fairly standard reveal fic that’s been done (and done _better_ ) at least a dozen times, but I figure that’s what makes it the perfect exercise to help me ease into writing for this fandom.
> 
> I don’t think I have their voices down just quite yet, so let’s hope I get better with practice because I’ve got at least seven more of these coming.


	2. Best. Neighbor. Ever.

In some ways, Marinette’s felt like an adult for as long as she can remember. When you’re suddenly granted superpowers and burdened with the responsibility of fighting a great evil, growing up overnight kind of comes with the territory. So when the time comes for her to go to university, what her classmates define as a rite of passage, a step into adulthood, doesn’t feel like a particularly momentous occasion to Marinette. She starts out light-years ahead of her friends in the maturity department, yet finds herself stuck somewhere in-between childhood and adulthood, too used to juggling both worlds and unable to leave one behind, even as her friends throw themselves into their new lives and quickly adapt.

University comes and goes, and still Marinette feels trapped in some strange in-between. It comes as a huge relief when moving into her own apartment _finally_ feels like the final step in this strange, drawn-out process she calls growing up.

It feels wasteful to move out of a perfectly good room in her parents’ place and into a tiny apartment that costs way more than it should, but the atelier is all the way on the other end of the city and it just makes more sense this way. Besides, it’s time for her to spread her wings, right? Or so her parents tell her, encouraging her to get her own space even as they tell her how weird it’ll be not to have her around, how quiet the place will get without her crashing into every other bookcase and end table.

So Marinette gets her own place (and resignedly sets aside more than half of her modest paycheck for rent). It’s weird, at first; maybe even a little lonely. She’s so used to her mother’s cheerful chatter in the morning and her father’s off-key singing as he bakes, the neighborhood children greeting her by name and the familiar sight of the street she’s lived on all her life. Here, the apartment is quiet save for her conversations with Tikki; she takes to playing music constantly to combat the silence. The neighbors are nice enough, but none of them tease her about her clumsiness when she almost trips on the stairs or know her well enough to tell when she needs cheering up.

It takes some getting used to, but eventually Marinette comes around to the idea of a fresh start, a clean slate, a chance to rebuild herself as the person she’s always wanted to be, not the clumsy, awkward, scatterbrained mess of a girl everyone’s always known.

Even the quiet apartment grows on her; it’s nice to see Tikki flying about so freely, and having an entire apartment’s worth of personal space is such a novelty that her living room is littered with fabrics and sketches within the first three days of her moving in.

“I think,” She tells Tikki as they finally unpack the last of her boxes two weeks later, “this is going to be a great fresh start for us.”

The next day, Adrien Agreste moves into the apartment above hers.

 .

 .

 .

Having Adrien as her neighbor certainly proves to be… an experience.

Their schedules seem to line up, so most days they end up walking out of the building together, bidding each other a nice day before going their separate ways. This, this is fine. Marinette can handle this. She’s no longer the stuttering fangirl her younger self had been, so settling into a tentative friendship with Adrien doesn’t exactly send her running in the opposite direction, screaming and squealing at the top of her lungs.

She _does_ squeal (into her pillow, of course) the day someone knocks on her door and she finds herself greeted by the sight of Adrien and a huge bouquet, which he offers her with a shy smile and says something about a spring-themed photoshoot, and him salvaging some of the flowers for her instead of letting them go to waste. Marinette accepts them with a bright smile and cheeks as red as the handful of camellias tucked into the arrangement. If he just so happens to keep coming by with flowers every few days, well… he’s a popular model, and it’s spring, nearly summer; she doesn’t see any reason to question him and his seemingly-endless supply of flowers.

And then there are days like _these:_

“The _one_ day I forget to bring an umbrella,” Marinette mutters to herself, glaring at the storm that’s appeared out of nowhere. She’s been sizing the rain up for a good two minutes now, trying to determine if it’s going to stop anytime soon; so far, it’s only started raining harder.

“Okay,” She sighs, peeking into her bag where Tikki is safely hidden away in a bonding pouch attached to the inside of the spacious tote. “I think we’re going to have to make a run for it, Tikki. Stay inside, alright?”

Tikki nods. “Be careful! Don’t slip, oka-”

“Marinette!” She looks up at the sound of her name, and finds Adrien waving at her from across the street, a black umbrella in hand. He checks for oncoming traffic before jogging over to her. Tikki quickly ducks back into her pouch.

“Hey, Adrien,” She smiles as he approaches her. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just on my way back,” He tells her.

“Oh, me too!” Marinette blurts out, words spilling past her lips without her explicit permission to do so. At least she’s stopped saying anything embarrassing around him.

Adrien casts a furtive glance at her hands, and then the empty umbrella bin by the front door of the atelier. He quickly catches on to her predicament, and kindly says nothing as he holds out his umbrella with a soft smile. “Hey, we can walk home together… if you’d like?”

 _You’re over him_ , Marinette reminds herself. _You’re over him, you’re over him, you’re_ so _over him_.

She nods, and Adrien offers her his arm for her to hook hers around.

 _I’m_ so _not over him_. Thankfully, the thundering roar of raindrops beating against the umbrella drowns out her quiet, happy sigh.

 .

 .

 .

“Well,” Chat drawls when his ring starts beeping. He gets up to his feet and proceeds to (quite exaggeratedly, in her opinion) stretch out his arms. “That’s my cue.”

As if on cue, her earrings let out a matching beep. “Mine too,” Ladybug sighs. She’s quick to accept when Chat offers her a hand, and allows him to pull her up with a quick “thank you”.

“Same time this Monday?” Chat proposes as Ladybug dusts off the back of her suit. In all their years of patrolling, they’ve never once actually stopped an akuma in its tracks; Papillon seems determined to attack at the most inconvenient of times, usually when they’re going about their civilian lives. Patrol, then, is probably a pointless practice they should have put an end to years ago.

Ladybug nods. “See you then,” She says with a wave goodbye, and swings away as her earrings beep for the second time. Patrol might not garner them any akuma, but it’s not completely pointless – not to her, at least. It’s the one constant in her life, these twice-weekly outings with Chat. Giggling freely as they chase each other around Paris, making impossible leaps from one building to another, just soaking in the sights of the city as they hang out at the very top of the Eiffel tower… she’ll never admit to it (especially not to Chat), but Ladybug spends most of her days looking forward to their nights together.

Somewhere behind her, Chat calls out a belated “good night, my lady!” before heading off in the opposite direction. Some nights, when Chat leaves first and she’s left with some time to kill before her transformation runs out, Ladybug takes the long way home, a scenic route that has her passing by all of her favorite spots in the city. Tonight she heads straight home, a third beep piercing through the silence of night as she lands on her balcony.

A third beep, and then a fourth, followed by a fifth – all in rapid succession. No, that’s not her third beep. That’s the last beep, and it can’t be hers.

Actually, it sounds like it’s coming from…

Ladybug leans her back on the railing of her balcony and dips her head back, craning her neck to get a peek at the balcony above hers.

Wait. Doesn’t the balcony above hers belong to Adri-

“Chat?” She gasps as a blinding green light assaults her eyes.

A familiar voice yelps in return. “Ladybug? What are you doing here?” It’s too dark for her to make out anything other than a faint silhouette with its back turned to her.

Still reeling from the implications of Chat Noir landing on _Adrien’s_ balcony just in time to release his transformation, Ladybug finds herself blurting out “I live here!”, and a few seconds later, as if that wasn’t bad enough: “What are _you_ doing here?’

“ _I_ live here!” Chat exclaims.

“No, you don’t,” Ladybug tells him matter-of-factly.

Chat speaks over her. “Wait-”

“That apartment belongs to-”

“That’s _Mari_ ’s balco-”

She launches herself up to his balcony just as the silhouette turns around, and of course it’s Adrien standing out here on his own balcony, who else would it be? But here’s the thing: she’s been talking to _Chat_.

 “… Marinette?”

“Adrien,” She murmurs to herself. _Adrien. Adrien is Chat._

“Mari?” Adrien – _Chat!_ – asks carefully, cautiously approaching her the way one would a fawn in the wild. She imagines she quite resembles one at this point, especially when she releases her transformation and is left in all of her wide-eyed, pink-cheeked glory without a mask to hide behind.

“My lady?” Chat asks tentatively when her name draws no response. Chat’s words coming out of Adrien’s lips – none of this makes sense.

Tikki appears from behind Marinette and waves at Adrien. “Hello, Adrien. I’m Tikki. Is Plagg around?”

“Hello,” He responds automatically, trying to process the sight of Ladybug’s – _Marinette’s_ – kwami. She’s adorable, much like her Chosen. “He’s inside.” Probably in the kitchen. The gluttonous little thing had zipped inside the minute he dropped the transformation.

“I’ll join him,” Tikki says. She rests her tiny hands on Marinette’s left cheek, finally breaking the girl from her reverie. “It’s going to be okay,” The kwami says softly, reassuringly. She offers her Chosen a warm smile when Marinette blinks in acknowledgment, then disappears into the apartment. Marinette stares after her with a desperation in her eyes that makes Adrien’s stomach sink.

“She’s sweet,” Adrien says quickly, unwilling to let her slip back into her shocked state. “I wish Plagg were more like her.”

“Plagg?” Marinette echoes blankly. Well, at least she’s responding to him.

“My kwami,” He explains.

“Oh.”

Adrien finds himself rubbing the back of his neck, a dead-giveaway he thought he’d gotten rid of two years ago. His father doesn’t think it’s fitting for someone like him to have tells, given how closely scrutinized he is by the media. But with Ladybug… with _Marinette_ , he feels like a nervous schoolboy all over again. “Yeah, oh.”

When they fall back into silence, Adrien curses at himself viciously in his mind and tries to come up with something, anything, to say.

Surprisingly, Marinette beats him to it.

“So. You’re really Chat Noir.”

He hates how, even with the warm light of the living room spilling out into the balcony, it’s nearly impossible to make out the expression on her face.

“Yeah,” He shrugs, deceptively casual. Maybe if he doesn’t make a big deal out of this, she’ll follow his lead and they’ll both be completely calm and everything will be okay. “And you’re Ladybug.”

“I’m also Marinette,” She says, more to herself than to him. “And you’re Adrien,” And then, after a brief pause: “And you’ve been bringing me _flowers_.”

“Do-” God, he hates this guessing game, this _okay but how do you_ feel _about that?_ game he’s playing with her right now. “Do you not like the flowers?”

“I love them!” She tells him, the words spilling out of her almost immediately. “I love them,” Marinette assures him again, calmer this time.

“Good,” He exhales in relief. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

“You’ve been bringing me flowers,” Marinette says after a beat. “And flirting with me as Chat. And we had movie night two nights ago and game night the week before and we’ve had so many take-out dinners I’ve lost count of them-”

“Fourteen,” Adrien helpfully supplies. “We’ve had dinner together fourteen times in the last six weeks.”

For the first time since she landed on her balcony, he finds something familiar in Marinette’s expression when she looks him in the eye. Her eyes are suspicious, and it takes him a while to place the look. It’s not one he’s seen on Marinette; it’s _Ladybug’s_.

“You were keeping track?” She asks. And then, softer, more hesitantly: “Why?”

He averts his eyes to the night sky, shifts his weight from one leg to the other, turns around by the slightest bit to see if he can catch a glimpse of Plagg and Tikki inside the apartment.

Then he drops his eyes to his feet and keeps them there as he speaks. “I was going to ask you out on a proper date if we made it past the fifteenth.”

When he risks a glance at her, Adrien finds Marinette looking at her own shoes. “Oh,” She says softly.

“Yeah.”

“Is that-” She looks up, up, up at the night sky, completely avoiding his eyes. “Is that something you’d still be interested in?”

It takes a while for the question to sink in. By the time it does, Marinette’s gathered up enough courage to offer him a small, hopeful smile.

“Yes!” He tries to say, only to have his voice fail him. “Yes,” Adrien says on his second attempt. “Yes, definitely. Without a doubt. _Definitely_.”

Marinette’s eyes widen ever so slightly before they narrow once more, and she nods to herself quite decisively. “Well then,” She shrugs, “we should get dinner number fifteenth done with as soon as possible, right?”

“Right,” He echoes reflexively. That coaxes a smile out of her, so he repeats it with what he’s pretty sure must be a dazed look in his eyes. And _that_ gets him a laugh; a tiny little fragment of a giggle.

“Got any leftovers, minou?”

Marinette just called him _minou_. _Marinette_ just called _him_ Ladybug’s nickname for Chat.

Forget dinner dates; he wants to sweep her off her feet and kiss her until they’re both laughing too hard to keep going, until she’s made him as breathless and dizzy as freefalling from the Eiffel tower does.

But there’ll be time for that. They _do_ live in the same building, after all.

So for now, all he does is smile and offer her his hand and his best Chat smile.

“Right this way, my lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your encouraging words, kudos, comments and the likes on the last chapter! I was honestly taken aback by the warm reception to that silly little one-shot. I hope you guys liked this one just as much.


	3. Made with Love

Marinette's earliest memory is of her mother's birthday, and the cake she and her father had gotten up extra early to bake. She was just three then, almost four, and it was the first year her father had trusted her with the frosting, letting her curl her stubby little fingers around the bag while his hands – monstrously huge, in comparison – guided hers as they spelled out _joyeux anniversaire, maman!_ in pink.

All these years later, it is her mother's eyes Marinette remembers most clearly – the way they'd gone from sleepy to sparkling in a blink, the way they'd danced with such happiness that the mere sight of her mother's eyes had her lips stretching into a painfully wide grin.

Sitting next to Chat Noir, watching him meticulously unwrap his gift with minimal damage to the wrapping paper, Ladybug can only hope to recreate that look in his eyes.

"You know you didn't have to," Chat tells her as he sets aside the wrapping paper. "Or you could have at least told me we were exchanging gifts. I would've gotten you something if I had known you're okay with Christmas presents."

"I don't need a present," Ladybug protests. "I just like giving them, that's all." All she wants is for him to like it. The look in his eyes is the only present she's after – not that she'll ever tell him that; the silly cat would most definitely take it the wrong way, and she doesn't have the patience to convince him that it's the same with her parents and Alya. She's always made a habit of getting or making them little gifts, just to see them smile. "Besides, it's nothing special. I made one for my mom and my best friend – my other best friend, that is – so I thought I'd make one for you too."

Chat carefully pulls his gift out of its box, revealing a patchwork quilt made of red and black squares, adorned with black spots and green paw prints respectively. "You made this?" He asks, running his knuckles through the blanket, careful to keep his claws from snagging on the material.

Ladybug nods when he turns to smile at her, a smile of her own tugging at her lips. "Something to keep you warm during those cat naps of yours," She says with a small laugh, nudging his shoulder with her own.

"Just what I needed," Chat sighs happily, holding the quilt to his chest. "I shall treasure it always, my lady," He says, taking her hand in his own. Just this once, Ladybug allows him to press a kiss to her gloved hand. It is Christmas, after all.

They sit in silence for a bit longer, until it starts to snow and they decide to get home before they freeze. Chat helps her to her feet and thanks her once more for the gift, and Ladybug bids him good-night as she swings away.

And that, as they say, is that.

… well, it should have been.

.

.

.

"Calm down!" Alya hisses as they approach the front door of the Agreste mansion, shooting a glare at her jumpy mess of a best friend.

"Sorry!" Marinette squeaks, wringing her hands. "It's just- Adrien! Christmas! The four of us! With Adrien!"

Alya laughs. "Are we playing 'complete the sentence' now?" She shakes her head at Marinette as Nino steps forward to ring the doorbell, only to stumble backward as the front door opens before he can reach it.

"Merry Christmas!" The trio chorus as the door swings back to reveal Nathalie.

"Christmas is two days away," Nathalie points out in her familiar flat tone as she holds the door open, wordlessly inviting them in with a tilt of her head. "Adrien is in his room. I trust you know your way?"

"I'll lead the way!" Nino announces, already heading for the stairs. Alya follows suit, dragging Marinette along by her wrist.

"Thank you!" Marinette calls back politely as she rushes to keep up with Alya, waving at Nathalie. She thinks she catches the smallest hint of a smile on the woman's face before they turn a corner and Nathalie disappears from sight.

Nino's been over a few times since getting into Gabriel Agreste's good graces a while back and having the ban on his friendship with Adrien reversed, so he confidently leads them down hallways and around corners until they reach the vicinity of Adrien's room, just as the boy himself steps into the hallway in search of them.

"Hey!" Adrien greets them with a wide smile and a wave, ushering them into his room. "You guys made it!"

"Of course we made it, dude," Nino snorts, giving Adrien a high-five as he walks into the room. "Have you seen this place? We wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Some of us came for more than just the rock climbing wall," Alya rolls her eyes at Nino's antics. "Thanks for inviting us over, Adrien. It's nice to hang out together," She says with a smile, disappearing into the room… leaving Marinette out in the hallway with Adrien.

"Hi, Adrien," She silently congratulates herself for getting that out in one attempt, with no stuttering or awkward pauses. It's been over a year, damn it. Her crush should have at least faded by now, if not disappeared completely. "Thanks for- I mean- wait, that is what I meant," Marinette mumbles. Adrien's quiet laugh draws her attention back to him, and she shoots him a small grin. "Thanks for inviting us!" She says in one breath, nearly tripping over her words.

"Thanks for coming," Adrien replies as Marinette finally walks into his room. "Make yourself at home," He says warmly, closing the door behind him. "Nino's pretty good at that, as you can see."

The boy in question is already sprawled out over the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table and lap full of candy he must've snagged from the crystal dish on the table. "Hey, your house is my house, right?" He counters, tearing into a bar of peppermint chocolate. Alya plops herself down next to him and swats at his legs, telling him to behave.

"Yeah, of course," Adrien hastily assures him, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I was just kidding," He tells Marinette. "Please make yourself as comfortable as Nino has. I just want everyone to have a good time-" He trails off when he notices the faraway look in Marinette's eyes. "Marinette? Is everything okay?" When she fails to respond, he follows her line of sight to… Nino? No, the couch – and the quilt draped over it.

"Where did you get that?" Marinette asks very quietly, her eyes still fixed on the familiar red and black squares. The Ladybug and Chat Noir themed squares she had painstakingly sewn together.

Adrien attempts to smooth things over with a laugh. "Oh, that? A friend made it for me. I'm a huge Ladybug and Chat Noir fan, and she said she was making quilts for everyone else so… cool, huh? I bet you can't find anything like this in stores."

Marinette shakes her head, still avoiding Adrien's eyes. "No, you definitely can't," She agrees in a murmur before falling silent once more. Her odd behavior is worrying, but before Adrien can question it, Marinette squares her shoulders, draws a deep breath and finally meets his eyes. "Ladybug gave that to you, didn't she?"

"What?" Adrien gasps. "Why would you- I mean, it's not like she and I know each- okay, there was that one time, or twice-" He finds himself silenced by Marinette's unwavering stare. "Fine. Yes, Ladybug gave me the quilt. How did you-"

"It's pretty easy to recognize your own handiwork," Marinette shrugs nonchalantly. "Chaton," She adds with a smirk.

Adrien blinks at her, and Marinette's smirk turns into a soft smile. He gapes at her, and her brows furrow in concern. "Chat? Are you- I mean, it's a lot to take in but-" Her teeth tug on her lower lip as she begins to fidget under his wide-eyed stare.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Alya hollers, twisting around on the couch to get a better look at them. "Are you guys just going to stand there all day or…?"

The disruption finally breaks Adrien from his stupor. "Ladybug?" He whispers, keeping his back to Alya.

Marinette nods, still biting on her lower lip.

"Guys, seriously," Nino says. "Are we getting this party started or what?"

"Um," Adrien turns to face their friends while one hand reaches for Marinette's. He ignores the way Alya's sharp eyes quickly catch the movement and widen with surprise. "Why don't you two pick a game or a movie or- or something? Marinette and I will join you in a while. Right?" Marinette nods when he turns back to look at her.

"And just where might you two be going?" Alya asks, arms crossed and a single brow arched in question.

"We just-" Marinette begins as Adrien tugs her toward his closet. "We need to talk. About… things. Yes, things." She gives Alya a nervous laugh as her friend tracks their movement across the room.

"No need to wait for us," Adrien adds with a note of finality, waving at Alya and Nino before he and Marinette disappear into his closet.

They emerge half an hour later, and Marinette blushes tellingly when Alya teasingly accuses them of ditching their friends to make out. Even Nino gets a quip or two in when Adrien reaches for the quilt folded over his end of the couch and drapes it around his and Marinette's shoulders.

At least their friends are too caught up in teasing the 'lovebirds' - as Alya won't stop calling them - to question their new bug- and cat-themed nicknames for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short, and there's practically no post-reveal interaction at all. Sorry for that, guys!


	4. Home Is Where the Heart Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor's Advent Calendar Challenge: join me as I attempt to carry out My Worst Idea Ever and write something new every single day from now until Christmas. This is Day 2.

“I think… I think we should break up.”

His sharp inhale is painfully loud in the sudden silence of the apartment. When Adrien speaks, his voice is tinged with laughter, as if the very notion of it is so absurd he can’t fathom her being serious about this. “What?”

It’s only when Marinette fails to meet his eyes that the enormity of the situation dawns on him. “You’re serious? Marinette, _why_?” He reaches out, curls his fingers around her wrist to catch her hand in his own. “Please, just tell me what I-”

With her face turned away, all he sees is the fan of long lashes fluttering close as she squeezes her eyes shut and the shudder that ripples across her slight frame as she takes a deep breath. “It’s not-” Marinette says haltingly, starts and stops a few times before she finds her voice. “It’s not entirely you. It’s both of us, but mostly me.”

He can’t think of anything wrong with her and even if she _has_ done something, he doesn’t care. Not enough to let her go and walk away from the best thing in his life right now. “Mari, I don’t-”

“I’m hiding something from you,” She whimpers, eyes still squeezed shut. “I’m hiding a huge part of me from you and that’s not fair to you, Adrien, but it’s not my secret to tell.”

It feels like his heart has simultaneously stopped _and_ started to pound away at triple its usual speed, like her words have turned him to ice yet set him on fire with guilt because he’s been doing the exact same thing to her and-

“I know you’re keeping something from me too,” Marinette finally looks at him then, catches the hand around her wrist in her own and gives his hand a squeeze as she offers him a wisp of a smile. “It would be hypocritical of me to hold that against you, so I never did. But we can’t go on this way, Adrien. This isn’t a healthy relationship, and you deserve _at least_ that.”

“So do you,” He murmurs, because he can’t think of anything else to say and he’s too numb to do much else and telling the truth isn’t really an option here, not when he’s only half of the problem and she’s already decided that keeping her secret is more important than keeping him. The tears are unexpected, but he can’t find it in himself to hold them back or wipe them away.

Marinette is the first to open her arms and catch him, the last to give in to her tears. She’s always been the stronger one – he sees that now. Strong enough to let him go for both their sakes, strong enough to comfort him until he’s calmed down enough to proceed with this, strong enough to hold herself together with her arms wrapped around her shaking form as she watches him drift from room to room, putting together a small bag of his things.

“If…” He says as they linger in the doorway, trying to buy himself some time as he says goodbye to the only anchor he’s had his entire adult life. “If someday, things were different-” His voice falters as panic claws at his heart and rises to his throat, as he finally resigns himself to being cast adrift and embraces the risk of being lost at sea or drowning.

The smile she offers him is gentle, fragile, made of glass as brittle as the mask she wears. “If someday,” She murmurs, but leaves it at that and makes him no promises, offers him no false hope to cling to. He doesn’t know if she’s being kind or cruel.

They stand there for a small eternity, separated by mere inches and unspoken words until he sighs and presses one last kiss to her forehead, takes two steps ahead and separates them by a threshold and a chasm they might never bridge again.

“Goodbye, Marinette.”

She faintly echoes the sentiment and closes the door immediately after; the click of the lock is louder than her voice was in those last moments together.

The sound of her sobs are louder still, and they echo in his mind long after he’s turned his back on the closed door and walked away from his one chance at happiness.

.

.

.

Throughout his nine years with Ladybug, they’ve both had their fair share of ups and downs. The fact that their downs never seemed to coincide was usually attributed to her good luck - but they should have known that even that would run out sooner or later.

The last few days haven’t been easy, what with Ladybug showing up to patrol with bloodshot eyes and him zoning out every few minutes to wonder about Marinette and ~~their~~ her apartment and if she’s had as much trouble sleeping alone as he has ever since the night their world came to an end.

They get lucky those first few days, when they’re both so caught up in their own issues that even an amateur akuma from their earliest days would probably have stood a fighting chance against Paris’ beloved superheroes.

On the fourth day, Ladybug’s infamous good luck finally fails them.

The akuma is vicious and single-minded, her personal grievance against the superheroes driving her to focus completely on Le Papillon’s goal of disarming them. She serves as a stark reminder of their greatest failure – the one time in nine years that they hadn’t been able to undo all of the consequences of a battle – and her presence seems to make things a hundred times worse for the already-vulnerable Ladybug.

A winded Chat Noir, sent flying away by a particularly strong blow a few minutes ago, swears he’s about to get a heart attack when he arrives back on the scene. Ladybug stands mere feet away from their opponent, entirely exposed to any and all attacks. She’s tearful at this point, apologizing for what must be the hundredth time, entirely too distracted to notice the huge blocks of concrete the akuma has summoned out of thin air.

They’re exact replicas of the concrete block that fell on her legs, the akumatized victim tells Ladybug, exact replicas of the concrete blocks that rendered her paralyzed for life. Chat ignores the pain that’s radiating throughout his entire body, forces himself to run as fast as possible even as he shouts for Ladybug to _look out, run, get away_.

And then there is only Ladybug’s stricken, tear-stained face and an indescribable pain and total, complete, blissful darkness.

.

.

.

He’s coaxed back to the waking world by a painfully familiar scent.

Chat wakes up to a mountain of throw pillows and a painful onslaught of memories. The actual pain – in his head and his bones and every other part of him – is mercifully gone, and the only physical discomfort he experiences is a dry throat feeling like it’s being sandpapered to death as he succumbs to a coughing fit.

“Chat!” He hears, and the first thing he sees upon waking is a glass of water right in front of his face. The second thing he sees is a concerned Ladybug, watching him in wide-eyed concern as he drains the glass in one go. The third thing he sees…

The third thing he sees is a picture on the wall over Ladybug’s shoulder, a picture of him and Marinette, a picture he had personally framed and hung up on that very wall.

“Chat, are you okay? I was so worried, and then you didn't wake up even after I used the cure, and I didn't know when your transformation might run out or if you'd wake up okay, and I just... I couldn't leave you.”

“I’m…” It takes a few attempts for his voice to come out as anything other than a hoarse whisper, a few attempts for him to tear his eyes away from the picture to seek out a nervous Ladybug sitting next to him. “I’m okay, my lady. Thank you for taking me with you. But... where are we?” 

“We’re… we’re at, um, a friend’s…” Ladybug falters. “No, I can’t,” She mutters to herself, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath. “I can’t keep lying anymore. It’s not fair to anyone.”

And before his mind can process her words, before he can comprehend that he’s about to get one of the things he wants most in this world, Ladybug opens her eyes and spits out the truth.

“We’re in my apartment.”

It takes a while for Chat to get to his feet, but it’s really got more to do with their current situation than his earlier injuries – not that he can tell Ladybug that as she fusses and frets and tells him he needs to rest. His first stop is the framed picture, the one of him and Marinette the day they moved in. He wanders around after that, brushes a hand along familiar shelves and walls and even the kitchen countertops.

Finally he comes to a stop, and turns around to find Ladybug right behind him.

“This can’t be your apartment,” Chat whispers, blood rushing in his ears and heart pounding out of his chest, “because up until four days ago it was mine. Mine and Marinette’s.”

He’s never seen Ladybug cry this much in one month, let alone a day.

“Adrien?” She breathes, all trembling hands and shaky breaths and hesitant movements.

He wants to take her shaking hands in his own, wants to draw her to his chest to hold her steady and wipe away her tears and call her by her name. But before he can so much as reach for her, his transformation melts away.

“Finally!” Plagg groans, throwing himself down on a countertop and lying flat on his back. “Do you know how long I’ve been holding on? I ran out of cheese energy an hour ago. A full hour!”

Ladybug stares at the kwami. Then at him. Then at Plagg. Then back at him.

And god, his heart is a wreck and his mind is a mess but Adrien can’t help himself.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” He shrugs, complete with a sheepish grin and one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Tikki,” Ladybug whispers even as she laughs through tears, “spots off.”

He doesn’t get a chance to fully appreciate his first look at Marinette in four days because she’s flinging herself at him even as her transformation slowly unravels, face tucked into her favorite spot between his neck and his shoulder, arms wrapped securely around his neck as he lifts her up and secures her legs around his middle.

“So your secret and my secret-”

“It was _our_ secret all along,” Marinette laughs, lifting her head up from its hiding spot.

Adrien shuffles a few steps forward so that he can rest her on the kitchen island, freeing up both hands to wipe away her tears. “Mari, I’ve missed you so much,” He whispers, pressing his forehead to hers.

One last tear makes it way down Marinette’s cheek. “Please come home,” She murmurs against his lips.

With her voice whispering his name, her lips moving against his, her hands running through his hair – he already is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been more than a year and a half since my last update and I can't tell you how sorry I am for that. Feel free to shout at me in the comments below.
> 
> (Or maybe just say hi. That would be nice.)


	5. Once Upon A Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor's Advent Calendar Challenge: join me as I attempt to carry out My Worst Idea Ever and write something new every single day from now until Christmas. This is Day 9.

After a decade of serving as Paris’ protectors, Ladybug and Chat Noir have gotten pretty good at dodging attacks – a useful skill to hone, given that their opponents have only grown more dangerous with time. In the last year alone, Ladybug has seen innocent civilians electrocuted, stabbed, and – in one particularly disturbing case – mind-controlled into jumping off a building. When Ladybug thinks of their early years and the sheer number of attacks Chat had to take for her, she can only thank whatever higher power there is that that is no longer the case. The mere possibility of having to watch her partner go through any of these things has given her a never-ending supply of nightmares.

So when their latest akuma throws a handful of dream powder at Chat’s back, it takes a moment for Ladybug to realize that she’s not dreaming, and that Chat has actually been hit by Le Rêveur’s attack. She rushes over to her partner as quickly as possible, and takes his hand without a moment’s consideration for the golden shimmer the powder gives off as it settles into his skin and how it might affect her.

“Looks like it’s time for a cat nap!” Le Rêveur announces gleefully as his magic begins to pull both superheroes under. “And while you rest, I will put the rest of Paris to sleep and make them suffer through the pain of living out their deepest, most unattainable dreams. See you later, sleepyheads!”

Ladybug’s last thought before she loses consciousness is, _but this is your best chance to defeat us. Idiot._

She doesn’t dream – not exactly, at least. When she’s greeted by the sight of an unfamiliar pair of hands attached to what she _thought_ was her body, she realizes that she’s seeing someone else’s dreams through their own eyes. A few attempts to move her host body make it very clear that she’s not in control at all; she’s just here for the ride.

As her unwitting host begins to prepare what appears to be breakfast, Ladybug considers what little information she has on the situation. The host, she deduces, is most likely Chat Noir – given that he was the one to bear the brunt of Le Rêveur’s attack, along with the fact that she passed out with her hand in his. They’re in a kitchen, that much is clear – but the fact that it bears a certain resemblance to her dream kitchen is just the slightest bit unsettling. The most surprising part of this all, though, has to be the platinum band on Chat’s ring finger.

The most surprising part, that is, until _she_ walks into the kitchen. Her hair is down – slightly longer than she usually keeps it – and she’s in a tank top and sleeping shorts, but her face remains hidden by her mask. Ladybug realizes two things with a jolt: one, her mask is on because Chat doesn’t know what she looks like; two, she’s wearing what appears to be a platinum wedding ring.

“Morning,” Her other self says with a serene smile as Chat looks up from his task of frying bacon; Ladybug finds herself glad for the fact that she can’t feel anything in this body when her other self leans in for a quick peck on the lips. She’s been through a lot of strange stuff in the last ten years, but kissing herself would definitely rank as one of the weirdest, most disturbing things of all.

While Chat and his dream Ladybug discuss their upcoming day, Ladybug tunes them out and concentrates on not freaking out over the fact that Chat’s deepest, most unattainable dream apparently involves being married to her. He’s been flirting with her for a decade now, but she’s always assumed that’s just a part of his personality, and a thing he does with everyone – after all, he’s been pretty flirty with Marinette the handful of times they’ve interacted with each other. And if this is what Chat _really_ wants, if he really does feel this strongly about her, wouldn’t he have said something by now? Something other than the joking proclamations of undying love he tosses at her every other week, that is.

For the first time since they first met, Ladybug is struck by the possibility that perhaps none of those proclamations have been the jokes she’s always written them off as.

Before she can come to terms with this new possibility, she’s pulled back into the dream by the sound of fast, excited footsteps – multiple pairs, muted by carpets or socks, maybe, but still thunderous as they make their way down the stairs.

“Here comes the cavalry,” Her other self sighs, stepping away from Chat’s arms to face the kitchen door. And she really should have put the pieces together by now – they’re married, the footsteps are accompanied by high, excited voices, and Chat’s frying way more bacon than two people could ever need – but Ladybug’s heart still stops when three small children suddenly appear at the door.

Two girls and a boy, with the boy appearing to be the middle child. She’d estimate their ages to be somewhere within the range of three to seven, but Ladybug’s never been that good at guessing kids’ ages. The eldest appears to be an exact copy of her, right down to the messy pigtails she’d worn at that age. The other girl has her hair but green eyes – what Chat’s look like, probably, when they aren’t distorted by his transformation. The boy, however… against all genetic odds, the boy has his father’s blond hair and her cerulean eyes.

She’s too stunned to pay close attention to anything after that, waiting only for Chat’s eyes to turn towards the children in order to get a closer look at them. The eldest is definitely a daddy’s girl, choosing to sit next to her father while the other two sit on the other end of the breakfast nook with their mother in between them, the youngest carefully placed upon a booster seat. Every once in a while, she’s met with the sight of her other self, reaching across the table for Chat’s hand while she watches their children with quiet fondness and genuine joy. For the most part, though, Chat focuses on the children – much to Ladybug’s satisfaction. They are rambunctious but well-mannered, it would seem, eating as cleanly as any child that young can be expected to. They’re not picky either, finishing everything that’s put before them without a single word of complaint about the mushy peas or the omelet. Her other self spends most of the meal cutting up the food on her daughter’s plate and feeding her, until Chat makes her switch places with him and takes over in order to let her eat.

Ladybug might not feel anything Chat feels, but she’s still got her own emotions to deal with – and she has never felt so overwhelmed. Here is a future she has only ever vaguely allowed herself to dream about ever since she moved on from her crush on Adrien, a future that seems to line up exactly with what Chat wants. Here is her partner of ten years, making breakfast and holding her hand and becoming her partner in every sense of the word. Here is love, and warmth, and so much happiness her heart feels as if it might burst.

Here is everything she never knew she wanted until right now.

As the dream starts to fade away and the edges of her vision go black, Ladybug comes to a decision. _Someday_ , she silently vows to herself, taking one last look at the children – _her_ children.

She is yanked out of that perfect, sunny kitchen and thrown into an eerily silent Paris, save for the pained groans coming from her partner.

“Chat!” Ladybug immediately sits up, hovering above her groggy partner as he slowly shakes off the last bit of Le Rêveur’s attack. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just-” Chat stops short as he realizes Ladybug’s hand is still wrapped around his own. “Ladybug… please tell me you didn’t see that dream.” He pulls his hand away to rub at his temples before slowly shifting into a sitting position to mirror hers.

“We can talk about it later,” She tells Chat in what she hopes is a gentle, reassuring tone. “For now, we have an akuma to stop.”

They stand up, Chat’s movements the tiniest bit slower than her own. There’s no telling what after-effect Le Rêveur’s dream powder might have, which is all the more reason to beat him as quickly as possible.

“Come on, we need a higher vantage point to see where he’s gone,” She decides, hooking her yo-yo around a street lamp to begin her ascent. Chat is unusually quiet as they climb upwards, and it’s only once they’ve landed on top of a sufficiently tall building that he speaks.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Chat says quietly as they scan their surroundings for any sign of Le Rêveur. “If you can just pretend you never saw any of that, that would be-”

Ladybug abandons her task for a moment to take Chat’s hand in her own. “I _want_ to talk about it,” She admits with a smile.

Chat’s lips curve into a tiny, hopeful smile of his own.

 

 

 

When Ladybug gets to the Eiffel Tower later that night, she finds Chat waiting for her in their usual spot.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Chat says, eyes still fixed on the sprawling city that stretches out as far as the eye can see. “I’m sorry that you had to see that, I’m sorry that I’ve put you in a difficult position, but… my lady,” He turns around then, all scared eyes and hesitant movements as he approaches her, “I can’t apologize for the way I feel about you, or the dreams I have about our future.”

“I don’t _want_ you to apologize,” Ladybug tells him, bridging the small distance he’s left between them to frame his face between her gloved hands. “I just want an honest answer, Chat. The kitchen, the kids, _us_ – is that what you _really_ want?”

“More than anything else in the world,” His whispered reply comes immediately, with not a single trace of his earlier uncertainty.

Ladybug rises up on her tiptoes. “Good,” She murmurs as she brings him closer and wraps her arms around his neck, her smile so wide it nearly hurts. “Because I do too.”

It’s their second kiss in ten years, and she can’t believe it’s taken a decade and a dream-obsessed akuma to get them here. Chat seems to have a little trouble wrapping his head around recent developments as well. “My lady, not to ruin the mood or anything – because really, that’s the last thing I want right now – but… why the sudden change of heart?”

“It wasn’t the kitchen, even though that’s more or less my dream kitchen and I really hope we get it someday,” She says, watching a smile spread across Chat’s face at the idea of _we_ and _someday_. “And it wasn’t the kids, even though they’re amazing and perfect and I love them already,” It’s getting a bit tiresome to stay on her tiptoes like this, so Ladybug lets go of Chat and takes his hand instead, tugging at him until he sits down on the edge of the tower with her, one arm wrapped around her waist as she leans on his shoulder. “It was you, and the way your eyes kept finding me no matter what. It was the way the other me looked at you, with all this love and happiness that I never thought I’d find. It was the realization that you’re the only person I could ever have that with, the only person who could ever know and understand and love both parts of me.”

Chat pulls away just enough to look her in the eye. “Ladybug, are you saying-”

She smiles, pulls him back in and kisses him until he’s on his back and they’re far enough from the ledge that no one runs the risk of accidentally falling off the Eiffel Tower in surprise. When Chat looks up at her, his eyes are filled with the same quiet awe and overwhelming love she’d felt in the dream - and it gives her that final push she needed to say those three little words.

“Tikki, spots off.”

 

 

 

They have two girls in a row and then a little boy, but they still look just as they did in that dream all those years ago, and their kitchen is bright and sunny and filled with all the love and warmth in the world, and Adrien still looks at her the way he did that night on the Eiffel Tower.

As far as Marinette is concerned, Le Rêveur is her all-time favorite akuma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 99% other stuff, 1% reveal BUT HEY IT STILL COUNTS. I think.
> 
> As usual, I'd love to hear from y'all in the comments below! To those of you who left comments the last time, thank you so much and I'll be getting back to you soon.


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